


Bathwater

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fluff, Songfic, a little bit of smut lite, the tiniest hint of past child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Based on the song "Bathwater" by WESLEEYou and Steve know how to comfort each other, leaning on each other in your times of need. But you think you want more, and you're not sure if he feels the same.(The song is so good, if you've never heard it before. Even if you don't read this, do yourself a favor and listen to the song).
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Bathwater

**Author's Note:**

> Was in a very Steve Rogers mood today, and also, I am scared of my WIP so I'm stalling, haha. I hope you enjoy this, let me know in the comments! 
> 
> Spotify link to song:  
> https://open.spotify.com/album/6CgFnmiMjhIQI75JazwzJk?si=iofTb9fJSayU76uJVzJAcA
> 
> Youtube link to song:  
> https://youtu.be/Od4TRyaIDzU
> 
> Also, for anyone a bit grossed out by the lyrics, they're just referencing an old saying. When you say "I'd drink ___'s bath water" it just means that you're so attracted to that person, you'd resort to that sort of thing if you had to.

_You know how to make me want ya_

_Drunk again, sippin' on your bath water_

_If only I could sink in slower_

_Drunk again, sippin' on your bath water_

You dumped yourself at the breakfast table across from Bucky in the common room, yawning wide, too tired to follow the proper etiquette of covering your mouth or even offering your friend a coherent greeting. You shoveled a spoonful of cereal into your mouth only to find that it was the stale and plain cornflakes you accidentally poured into your bowl instead of the good sugary stuff you enjoyed. You didn’t even have enough energy to be disappointed, chewing and swallowing and taking in another spoonful.

“Rough night?” Bucky asked without looking up at you, scrolling through the news on the tablet beside his plate.

“Yeah, you could say that,” you muttered, fighting another yawn.

Bucky nodded knowingly, pushing his mug of coffee over to you. You gratefully took a gulp from it, willing the caffeine to kick in. You and Bucky were very well acquainted with Hydra-induced nightmares. You hadn’t been through nearly as much as him, but they still did a number on you. Your memory hadn’t been wiped, but that was only because since you could walk, you had been groomed by their hate, their evil, all by the hands of a man that claimed to be your father. You don’t know where or how they got you, but they made you do their bidding, made you do things that no child should have been subjected to. But you were their little weapon, a means to their end, and by the time you were old enough to know how twisted it all was, the scars were already permanently carved into the fabric of your being, swallowed by swirling darkness and the ire of knowing just how much they stole from you.

The last year had offered a glimmer of light, though, one that you were still struggling to accept. Bucky had remembered you from his time as the Winter Soldier, your ‘father’ having been one of his handlers. He found a file on you during one of the team’s raids of a Hydra base, saw that you had defected, and managed to track you down. It took a lot of convincing; you hadn’t trusted him at first, but when you finally came around, you had agreed to follow him back to his new and reformed life, doubting that you could find redemption like he did.

That’s how you found yourself with an unofficial spot on the team, living at the compound with everyone else. You didn’t go on missions; Tony was still putting you through a sort breaking in/training period, but you knew the truth. He didn’t trust you yet, and you didn’t blame him. Still, you did help out wherever you could, providing intel and consulting whenever the team needed it, along with combat training from Nat. You were grateful for this new life, but it was one that was yet to feel like home. It was like you were the last piece of a puzzle, but you couldn’t quite fit into that blank spot.

“Morning,” a deep voice said behind you, and you sat up straighter, your heart doing somersaults.

“Morning, punk,” Bucky said, retrieving his mug back and taking a sip.

You could hear Steve grab a mug of his own from the cabinet, and you could hear the clink of the coffee maker as he poured himself a nice full cup of it. He made his way over to the table, standing at the head of it between you and Bucky, placing his free hand on it and leaning on his arm as he sipped his coffee. He and Bucky started to talk about something, but you couldn’t follow their conversation. Your mental faculties were too focused on Steve’s hand, large and warm, his fingers splayed across the smooth wooden surface. You let your gaze travel upwards, the corded muscles of his arm flexing and relaxing as he adjusted himself a bit. You looked up at his profile, the curve of his neck, his sculpted jaw, his eyelashes that were unfairly long. You forced yourself to look down at your cereal, which was already beginning to get soggy, trying to regulate your breathing.

Just then, Steve yawned, almost as bad as yours, and you looked up again to find Bucky already staring at you, a roguish grin on his face. He looked up at Steve with the same expression.

“Rough night?” he asked again, though he sounded less concerned than before.

“Not at all,” Steve said casually, taking another long sip from his mug. “I slept wonderfully,” he added, and though he wasn’t looking at you, you knew that was for your ears.

You took another spoonful of cereal and crossed your legs, fighting the phantom friction that you still felt between your thighs.

Sometimes, it wasn’t just the nightmares that kept you up at night.

~~~

_Indestructible_

_But baby, I've been broke_

_Piece me, piece by piece_

_Put this mind at ease_

“You’re still awake, aren’t you?” you had heard him say besides you the night before, his voice weighed down by sleep. His arm tightened around you, pulling you in closer to his chest. You relented to him, and you could feel his warm breath on your skin as he tucked his head in the crook of your neck. You sighed involuntarily, still looking up at the ceiling, only slightly miffed that he interrupted your count of the tiles.

“I am,” you whispered, letting your hand trace light patterns across his forearm.

He hummed deeply, and you could feel it reverberate through his body. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Your hand wandered up to his bicep, and you felt him shiver a bit. You grinned. “Not really, no.”

“Do you want to go for a walk? Maybe that’ll tire you out,” he offered, but you told him no again.

It wasn’t the first time Steve had made his way into your room in the middle of the night. In fact, by now, the both of you skipped the whole ruse of retreating to different rooms at the end of the day, wordlessly agreeing whether you’d spend the night at his place or yours. The first time had been a surprise though. A particularly bad nightmare had you panting and sobbing on your bathroom floor, tearing at your hair and desperately trying to pull oxygen into your lungs. As if from a dream himself, Steve appeared at your side, reaching out to you and softly whispering affirmations and reassurances above your strangled cries. You had asked him what he was doing there once you calmed down, and he told you that he programmed Friday to let him know when someone on the team was in distress, something that had started with just Bucky, but soon extended to everyone else.

You had scoffed weakly and called him the “night terror brigade” which had made him laugh harder than it should have. The next time you had a nightmare and he came, you tried to tell him you didn’t need his help, but he didn’t listen to you, showing up again and again and again. You broke one night, trembling and terrified of closing your eyes, and you clutched at his shirt, begging him to stay, not to leave you alone.

He did stay, of course he did, and when you had woken up the next morning and saw his blonde hair peeking out from the folds of your blankets, you felt a bit of shame creep over you. You didn’t want to be weak or needy. It went against everything you were raised by, _programmed_ by, but he wouldn’t let it go. He became a constant presence in your orbit, and as hard as you fought against it, you felt him rounding out your jagged and sharp edges.

“What do you need?” he asked you, his voice sounding more awake, his lips brushing against your collar bone.

“I don’t need anything,” you murmured against the crown of his head, closing your eyes and breathing in his scent

“Okay,” he said. His hand slid down your waist slowly, his fingers lingering at the hem of your shirt for a moment before dipping below the fabric and sliding onto your skin. Your breath hitched at the contact. No matter how many times he touched you, you didn’t think it would be something you would get used to. His hand made its way up, and up, and up, until it just grazed the edge of your breast. Your back arched slightly, leaning into his touch, already aching for more. “What do you _want_ , then?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.

Him.

It was always him.

_Kiss away regret_

_Sex 'til I forget_

_The pain I used to know_

_Got me letting go_

It hadn’t taken long for both of you to find different ways to bring each other comfort. Honestly, it hadn’t surprised you; there had been other hands that touched you, too many hands, and far too early. It was part of what you needed to do, part of what you were told you must accomplish to complete the mission. But that wasn’t the truth. Those hands had been cold, unforgiving, cruel. They used you for their own gain, their own amusement, and none of it was nice. So when the time had finally come, when neither you nor Steve could ignore the energy that buzzed between you, you weren’t surprised, but he hadn’t been what you had learned to expect from a man.

He was gentle, so careful, like he was afraid he would break you. So gentle that you had cried after the first time, and he had panicked, apologizing profusely because he thought he had done something wrong. It did feel wrong at first. You didn’t believe you deserved to be touched like that, didn’t believe you deserved the way he said your name, or painstakingly memorized every inch of you, every twitch, every moan, every breath.

“What do you want?” he asked you again, pressing kisses against your neck and jawline. His hand reached up and began kneading, slowly and methodically, capturing your sensitive bud between his fingers, rolling and tugging with expertise. You whimpered and he chuckled, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

_A drop in your ocean_

_You spark my explosion_

_It's undeniable_

_Like autumn leaves I fall_

His lips found their place over yours, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip, asking for permission, and you gave it to him, parting your lips and moaning as his tongue danced with your own. His hand made its way back down your middle, past your navel, and slipping under the waistband of your pants and under the hem of your underwear. He stroked the curls right above where you were aching for him most, and your toes curled to the point of pain. You reached up and clutched at his arms and shoulders, trying to ground yourself back down to earth. His fingers inched downward, grazing and teasing over the crazy bundle of nerves that left you breathless and broken and whole again.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Steve murmured against your lips. He lifted his head slightly, looking into your eyes, and you couldn’t find your voice. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him and held him flushed against you, reclaiming his mouth and kissing him with a fervor that you hoped conveyed all the things you wished you could say to him. 

_Oh now_

_Every scream is sounding like a symphony_

_But baby, you know that's not all I want_

_You give me something more_

The mornings after were the hardest for you. In the cover of night, in the throes of passion, it was easy to get swept up in him, the phantasm of it all, but in the harsh light of day, reality hit you like a train. On the mornings you would wake up before him, you would carefully twist yourself out of his arms and watch him for a while, the soft rise and fall of his sleeping breaths. He looked so peaceful then, not yet stretched and pulled by the obligations of the day. Part of you felt like he needed you as much as you needed him. There had been many times he came to you after a mission gone wrong, or a press tour that left him haggard and spent. Those were the times your body wasn’t enough for him. He vented to you, sought out your words and advice, and you did the best you could to help him. Mostly, you just listened, offering at the very least to carry some of his burden for him, despite the mountain of baggage you already had. You didn’t mind, not one bit, because he did the same for you.

That’s where the lines blurred for you. You weren’t sure what he wanted out of all this, this thing that you had together. You weren’t sure exactly what you wanted out of it either, what you could ask of him. Beyond the four walls of your rooms, you were just teammates. You didn’t hold hands, you didn’t kiss, or any other little displays of affection. You called each other by the necessary titles, _captain, agent._ The others weren’t fools; they had their suspicions, but still, the two of you kept what you had hidden, protected, closed off to the outside world. You didn’t mind that part too much. It wasn’t like you wanted him to flaunt you around on his arm like a cheap prize, but you did want to know what you meant to him. You wanted to know so badly, but you were too scared to ask because he meant so much to you. You couldn’t handle it if you knew you were just another name on his list, just something easy and convenient. Disposable.

So you stayed quiet, you didn’t push, because even if that were the case, you had him now. He was yours for now, and you didn’t want to lose that.

~~~

That’s what was coursing through your mind as you took another bite of soggy corn flakes.

“What about you?” you heard Steve say, and you looked up at him. His face was pretty neutral, but there was a flame behind his eyes that made you quiver at your core. “How was your night?” he asked, taking a sip from his mug.

“It was fine,” you managed to say. A smirk tugged lightly at your lips and you peered up at him through your lashes. “Nothing eventful.”

His eyebrows raised. “Really,” was all he said over the rim of his mug.

You nodded. “Boring, even,” you added, your eyes never leaving his.

You could see him fighting his own grin as he downed the rest of his coffee and walked over to the sink where he deposited the empty cup. He crossed his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter, his face still impressively passive despite the electricity that charged the air between you.

“Is that so? Maybe you need a hobby,” he said, his eyes glancing over your body like he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll put that in the suggestion box, Cap,” you assured him.

He allowed himself to grin at that, saying a few more things to Bucky about meetings you didn’t quite have the clearance for yet, before leaving the room. You turned your attention back to your flaccid flakes, swirling your spoon around the white and beige soup in your bowl. You could feel Bucky eyeing you, but you didn’t look up at him.

“You know, you two are something else,” you heard him say.

You let out a breath, hoping he didn’t notice the heat creeping up your neck, and got up to put your bowl in the sink.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, Barnes.”

_You know how to make me want ya_

_Drunk again, sippin' on your bath water_

_If only I could sink in slower_

_Drunk again, sippin' on your bath water_

________

The rest of the day had been long and rigorous. Nat was not above pushing you to your breaking point, and the therapy session you had after training wasn’t a walk in the park. You decided that you deserved a nice long soak in the tub, along with scented candles, lavender bath bombs, and a good book. It wasn’t your own tub you used for the occasion though. You snuck into Steve’s room and ran the tap, his bathroom filling with steam and soothing scents of self-care. You settled into the warm water, bordering on hot, and relaxed into it, letting the tension bleed out of your muscles.

Not too long after, you heard Steve’s door open and he called out your name softly.

“I’m in here,” you called back to him, and he appeared in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame and grinning over at you.

“I hope your day wasn’t too boring,” he remarked slyly. You only grinned back at him in response, surfacing your hand out of the water and reaching towards him. He walked up to the edge of the tub and sat down, taking your hand in his own and placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. He leaned over and placed another kiss on your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, soft, quick, and chaste.

“I’m a little lonely in here,” you purred at him, resting your head on his thigh.

His fingers danced in your hair. “Hmm. We can’t have that,” he said, his tone low and sultry.

He got up and stripped down, stepping into the tub and settling between your legs. You gently guided his head back onto your shoulder and he sighed contently, the stress of his day visibly dissipating. You left a trail of kisses from his shoulder to his temple, and his hands ran up and down both your legs.

You were both quiet for a while, just being with each other and savoring the way the curves of your bodies fit so well together, like you were purposefully made that way. At some point, Steve broke the silence with a small chuckle.

“What?” you asked him, running your hand over his chest.

“Nothing. I just had a sort of convoluted thought.”

“Oh? What was it about? Do tell,” you said playfully, nipping at his ear lobe.

“It was about the Valkyrie,” he told you, and you froze a little at the name of the airplane that changed the very course of his life and fate. He never spoke to you about it before. He never got into how it affected him, the trauma it no doubt caused him. Maybe he didn’t want to burden you any further, but it was something you always wondered about, but you never brought it up.

“This is going to sound crazy, but…I’m glad it happened,” he continued, and your eyebrows rose in shock.

“You are?”

He nodded. “In a messed up way, yeah. I mean, at the time, I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. And if I hadn’t made that choice, if Howard could have figured out a way for me to land it safely in time, I wouldn’t be here. With you.”

The air was knocked out of your lungs and your heart just about stopped beating, your mind piecing together what he was implying.

“We wouldn’t have existed at the same time,” he continued, his voice growing a little distant. “Or maybe we would have, but not like this. I would be in a nursing home somewhere, and you…you’d be in someone else’s tub. I would have never known you. All of these uncontrollable variables led me here, right here, with you, but they could have easily gone a different way, and I could have missed you. That’s kind of frightening to think about.”

You were speechless, thinking over what he just said, what he just confessed to you in no uncertain terms. Your nose stung, and your vision blurred. You shut your eyes and let the tears fall down your cheeks, but you quickly wiped them away.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive you for putting something so scary in my head,” you said when the lump in your throat disappeared.

Steve chuckled, grabbing your hand again and kissing the tips of your fingers. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, sweetheart?”

“I can think of a few things,” you said. You maneuvered yourself from behind him, straddling his hips and settling yourself in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned forward, placing your lips on his, just letting them rest there, just because you could. He was there, and he was real, and you could. You felt his length begin to harden against you, and you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you,” you whispered into him, because you weren’t scared anymore, you weren’t unsure or lost. You pulled back and looked into his brilliant blue eyes and you felt yourself click into place, a puzzle piece that finally, _finally_ found its place in the world.

He didn’t say it back, not in that moment, but he made sure you felt it. Every part of you and every part of him, he made sure you felt it. 

_If only I could sink in slower  
Drunk again, sippin' on your bath water_


End file.
